


When Bad Ideas Turn Good

by OKDeanna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Caretaker Derek Hale, Drunk Stiles, Dubious Consent, First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:58:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OKDeanna/pseuds/OKDeanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek finds himself alone with a drunk Stiles in a hotel room the night of Erica and Boyd's wedding, he tries to do the right thing...at least at first. But sometimes doing the right thing gets a bit murky, because even the most well-meaning of men will succumb to temptation when it's so blatantly put on offer, and Derek is no different. Not when it comes to Stiles. No. <i>Especially</i> when it comes to Stiles...</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Bad Ideas Turn Good

**Author's Note:**

> Someone wanted a fic based off the picture of Hoechlin in London on New Year's Eve and my muse screamed until I gave in and complied. I didn't follow the prompt quite literally, but I did hit the gist of I I think. Source of the prompt can be found here: http://youneedmetosurvive.tumblr.com/post/71954891313/derek-tion-eeames-if-there-isnt-one-fic

**When Bad Ideas Turn Good**

Derek Hale sighed, bone-weary exhaustion pulling at his muscles as he quietly guided a loud, drunken Stiles Stilinski onto the elevator and punched the button for their fourth floor hotel room. In Stiles's hands was a filched, last-minute grab, full bottle of Jack Daniels and another equally full bottle of wolfsbane-laced whiskey that Stiles and the rest of the pack swore Derek just had to try, and that Stiles himself refused to leave the party without.

What Stiles failed to understand, or maybe just refused to understand, was that Derek had drank the whiskey and while the combination worked just enough to make him feel something, it wasn't enough to make him crave more of it. And yet, Stiles still kept trying to get him to drink it. The persistence would be annoying if it wasn't so Stiles and if Derek hadn't missed him so damn much these past few months while Stiles had been unable to come home from college. 

Quick, holiday visits home and a few weeks downtime during the summer just wasn't enough time to catch up on each other's lives in Derek's opinion, but then again, somehow they'd done that and more, becoming closer than Derek would've expected given their rocky history together. One of these days, he should probably examine why that was. Then again, something told Derek he really might not want to know the answer to that.

Derek frowned as the elevator dinged above them, the doors sliding open to reveal a thankfully empty hallway. He tightened his grip on Stiles's bicep and lead them out the doors and down the halls to their room, only stopping once when Stiles stumbled too close to Derek's own feet and nearly took them both down. Shaking his head as Stiles continued his inane, noisy chatter, Derek thrust the key fob in front of the door reader, barely managing to push Stiles inside the hotel room before Stiles thrust the bottles in his hands at Derek to fitfully yank at his suit jacket and tie. 

Derek rolled his eyes and sat the bottles down on a nearby table, watching, more amused than he should be, as Stiles managed to tangle his arms and nearly choke himself in an effort to undress before Derek took pity on him and reached over to help. 

"Let me do it," he said, covering the clumsy hands with his own before moving to undo the buttons on the jacket--the buttons Stiles somehow forgot to undo before trying to take it off. "It'll go faster that way."

Stiles stilled as Derek worked the buttons free, his breath coming out in quick, harsh little pants as he stared at Derek's hands with wide, surprised eyes. "You're gonna undress me?" He licked his lips, wetting them in ways that made Derek's hands shake against the jacket. "That's so awesome. So, so awesome."

There was an implication in his tone, and had he been sober, Derek wasn't sure he could've ignored it. He wasn't entirely certain he could ignore it now, if he were honest, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try. "Shut up. You're drunk."

"Hell yeah I am. You'd be drunk too if you'd drink that bottle of werewolf-fun I stole for you." Stiles all but vibrated in place as Derek slid the suit jacket down his arms and tossed it over a nearby chair. When he reached to unknot the tie at the other man's neck though, Stiles shifted his weight, his body unerringly pushing against Derek's in ways that should not have felt as good as it did. 

"Come on," he cajoled, rocking on his heels, rubbing against Derek, "get the bottles and drink with me, dude. No one else has to know. I won't tell them. Promise."

Derek glanced up from undoing the tie, meeting his wide amber eyes, and sighed.

"If I agree to a drink, _one_ drink, will you agree to get in the bed and go to sleep?"

To his surprise, Stiles immediately shook his head. "I'm drunk, Derek. I can't make that kind of promise right now." He moved then, slipping his hands up and under the lapels of Derek's suit coat and slowly but surely sliding it back and off of his shoulders, seeming not to care at all as Derek froze in place, the jacket pooling at his feet on the floor. 

"Oh my God," Stiles muttered, first patting then running his hands up and down Derek's suddenly too-thin dress shirt, mindless of the affect his touch had on the bare skin beneath it. "You're so freaking hot, dude. How can you stand to be so hot? I'd want to touch myself all the time if I were you."

And that...is an image Derek should not have in his head. Ever. But especially right now, when Stiles is too close, too drunk to know what he was saying or doing.

Reaching up with another sigh, Derek gripped the man's wandering his hands, holding them still. "You need to stop and shut up now. You're drunk. You're doing and saying things you don't mean."

"Pretty sure I do mean them," Stiles murmured, quickly leaning in to brush his lips along the outside of Derek's jaw, mouthing at the stubble-coated skin as if he didn't care at all that it wasn't smooth, wasn't perfect. "Dreamed about this. About having you like this. Wanted it for so, so long." 

Derek bit back a groan as Stiles nipped and bit at his chin, his teeth surprisingly gentle as they pressed in against him. "S-Stiles. W-What are you doing?"

"What does it feel like I'm doing, Derek? I'm biting you, tasting you." He seemed to shake himself then, as if becoming slightly more aware of what he was doing, instigating, and straightened to stare at Derek with a mixture of astonishment and determination. "We should drink now. Before I get more distracted."

Derek was already more distracted, and he was pretty sure drinking was the last thing he should do with Stiles tonight. Drinking lowered inhibitions, made clear things cloudy, and Derek needed to be clear as much as possible right now. If only to prevent himself from doing something monumentally stupid. Something he'd halfway managed to convince himself wasn't possible and that he didn't even really want to have happen.

Except he did. He really, really did.

"Yeah," he said, breathing out, his words coming out shaky, a little bit hoarse. "We should definitely drink now."

Maybe if Derek was lucky, Stiles would drink enough to pass out and forget about wanting to undress, taste, and bite him. If he wasn't, Derek prayed he'd be strong enough to resist the urge to let him do it. Because sleeping with Stiles was not an option. Derek wouldn't let it be an option. He wouldn't.

"Drink," he rasped, stepping back and turning away from the blinking, half-lidded, temptingly rumpled picture Stiles made. "We need to drink."

 _We need to drink right now_.

Derek turned and reached for the bottles on the table, opening first one and then the other, taking a huge gulp of his own whiskey bottle before Stiles took him by surprise and pressed up against his back, reaching around to take the bottle of Jack from his fingers.

"Hell yeah," he mumbled over Derek's shoulder, his low words a hot, moist breath against Derek's ear, fluttering across the sensitized skin of his bare neck in ways that made Derek's entire body shiver with want. Ache, with bone-jarring, mind-numbing need.

"Let's do this, Sourwolf. Let's drink to Erica and Boyd."

Derek swallowed, hard, and took another drink, a big one. A longer one. Stiles took another drink, too, and his was much, much longer, and much, much more dangerous to Derek's self-control.

 _Jesus Christ_. If he didn't get a handle on himself, on his body's growing want and need for Stiles, they'd be in bed before Derek could blink, and once they were on that soft, flat surface, Derek didn't know if he'd have the strength to stop things from going too far.

And that absolutely could not happen. It absolutely could not.

As if on cue, Stiles shifted against his back, his free hand working its way across Derek's stomach, two of his long, slender fingers slipping into an open part in Derek's dress shirt, idly brushing against his bare torso.

Derek pulled in a quick, sharp breath and turned straight into a dirty, wet, open-mouthed kiss that made his knees tremble and allowed Stiles the time he needed to back him up against the dresser, his head hitting the wall with enough force that it would've stunned a human. And he let it happen, until a minute rush of sanity bled through the lust-filled haze and had him yanking his head to the side.

Not that it stopped Stiles's mouth any. If anything, it only spurred him on further, his full, swollen lips making tracks up and down Derek's neck as he sat his bottle down and took the one in Derek's hands. When he reached for Derek's tie and began to undo it, Derek shuddered and reached for his hands.

"Stiles. This can't-- We shouldn't--"

Stiles lifted his gaze from where he'd been watching his hands undo Derek's tie, his brown eyes burning with need, with warning. "Shut up. For once in your life just do as I say and _shut the hell up_."

Derek opened his mouth, intending to protest, but before he could, Stiles's tongue slid across his lips, tracing the contours inside before flicking over and enticing Derek's own tongue to move. The kiss was like nothing Derek had experienced before and yet it felt so damn familiar, so damn right, he couldn't bring himself to break it.

Stiles moaned against his lips and used one of his legs to part Derek's own, his thigh slotting between Derek's legs with practiced ease. If he'd been thinking, he might've pulled away then, but he wasn't thinking, and he didn't want to start.

Lifting his hands, he framed Stiles's face between his palms, deepening the kiss, using the back of one of his legs to pull Stiles's body in closer, tighter against him. When his thigh brushed up against Derek's groin as a result, pressing in just the right way, with just the right amount of pressure, Derek couldn't stop himself from grinding against it, against him.

"Jesus," Stiles mumbled, rotating his own hips, letting Derek feel how hard he was, how thick. How desperate. "Jesus, Derek, I need..." another slow grind and Stiles pulled back to order, "Bed. We need a bed. Now."

Derek stared at him, watched the way his pupils dilated, nearly disappeared in the presence of his lust, his need. "Are you sure about this, Stiles? You've had a lot to drink. You might regret this tomorrow."

"Are you kidding me right now? I'm not going to regret this dude. I've wanted this for years. Wanted you for years. Years, Derek. _Years_."

That didn't mean he'd still want it tomorrow. When he was sober enough to remember what transpired tonight. "Stiles. This will change things." In truth, it would change _everything_. "I want it, want you, but not if it's just sex. Not if I'm just another notch on your bedpost."

"You aren't. Jesus Christ, Derek, you could never be a notch. Not you."

He wanted to believe him. He wanted to think they were on the same page with this, but how could they be? Stiles had never made even the slightest suggestion that he wanted actually something like this with Derek. He'd joked a few times over the years, sure, but he joked with everyone that way sooner or later and Derek had known whenever he said it that he didn't mean it. Not like Derek wanted for him to.

Could he afford to take the risk he didn't mean it now? That he didn't want this as much as Derek wanted it? 

"Stop thinking so much, Derek. I want this. You want this. Stop fighting it and do it with me. Come on," he said, voice rising, hands grasping at Derek's shirt as if he actually expected Derek to push him away. End this. "We both want it, dude. It doesn't matter if I'm drunk. I want it. I'll always want it. Want you."

Yeah, but for how long. That's what Derek wanted to know. How long would he want this? Want Derek?

"No," Stiles said, reaching up to grasp both ends of Derek's tie, yanking him forward until barely a breath separated his mouth from Derek's. "You want this, Derek. _I_ want this. I won't let you second guess it and fucking cockblock us because you're scared of it. Trust me, man. I know what I want."

So did Derek. He just wasn't sure they wanted the same things. But Stiles was right. The time for fighting this was over. It was now or never, and Derek wasn't sure he could live with the idea it might be never. 

"Alright," he said, nodding, well as much as he could nod with Stiles still holding tight onto his tie. "You win. We'll do this. We'll have sex."

Stiles grinned. "It's okay to sound happy about that, Derek. It's gonna be good, you know. It's gonna be so" he brushed quick kiss against Derek's mouth, "damn" his jaw, "good."

Yeah. That's what Derek was afraid of. Because if it was as good as Stiles thought, as good as Derek thought, he might not be able to let Stiles go again. And he wasn't at all sure, Stiles had it in him to stay. At least not with Derek. 

People never stayed with Derek. Good, bad, it didn't seem to matter. Everyone he'd ever loved had left in the end. It's just the way things were. He honestly didn't see that changing any time soon. No matter how much he wished that it would.

Derek returned Stiles's kiss then straightened and slowly walked Stiles backward, toward the bed, removing both of their ties and shirts as they went. "I'll fuck you tonight, Stiles, and tomorrow, if you're up for it, I'll let you fuck me."

Stiles's eyes went wide, his mouth falling open a split second before Derek pushed him down against the mattress. "Are you sure?" he asked, voice sounding far more sober than it should given the amount of alcohol he consumed. "You'd let me fuck you?"

Derek would let him do anything he wanted to him. Especially if it mean he'd stay with him that much longer. "Sure. I want this, too, remember? And that includes wanting to feel you inside me, but first," he taunted, vowed, "I'm going to sate myself inside of you."

"I'm okay with that," Stiles said, breathing hard, fast, hands clenching into fists at his sides. "I'm way, way okay with that. Just...hurry the fuck up, man. I need to come like yesterday."

Derek chuckled, kissing him again, and then sat up, reaching for the belt and buckle at Stiles's waist. He undid the closure, pulling the black leather from the loops a little at a time, watching the varied emotions play across Stiles's flushed and waiting face. 

Yeah, Stiles was right about this. It was going to be good. 

_Very, very good._

* * *

Stiles woke to a pounding in his head, a warm muscular arm thrown across his chest, and a large hairy thigh resting dangerously close to his groin. He drew in a quick breath, searched his memory banks, and didn't even have to open his eyes to know the limbs belonged to Derek. He remembered last night with vivid, drunk clarity.

 _Jesus_. He'd talked Derek into going to bed with him. No, not just going to bed with him, but fucking him in it, too. Fucking him very, very well if the ache in his naked backside was any indication, and to Stiles, it was.

A sudden groan had Stiles's eyelids shooting up, his head twisting along the pillow until his gaze landed on the face of the man lying next to him. The man whose eyes were opening, slowly but surely focusing in on Stiles's face, and no doubt listening to the quick, pounding rhythm of his heart. 

"Uh, hi. Morning."

Derek blinked once, twice, then sighed and shifted until his body no longer pressed anywhere along Stiles's. That fact was both a blessing and a curse as far as Stiles was concerned. A blessing because Stiles wasn't quite awake enough to decide how he felt about what they did last night, and a curse because Stiles remembered the sexual promise Derek made to him in the moments before they had sex for the first time, and that he repeated again the second and third times.

Beside him, Derek sighed again, lifting his hands to scrub across his face. "I owe you an apology. Last night was a mistake. I should've been stronger."

Well, hell. That wasn't the conversation Stiles wanted to have first thing this morning, even if a part of him had anticipated it all along. "I wanted it to happen, Derek. I wasn't so drunk I didn't know what I was doing. What I was asking for."

"Doesn't make doing it right, though. You were drunk, Stiles. I took advantage of that, and I shouldn't have." Shaking his head, Derek threw back the covers and got to his feet, pulling on his pants and underwear from last night before Stiles had even worked out he didn't actually want him to get dressed.

Stiles shot up in the bed, only afterward remembering why that wasn't the best of ideas, and frowned, reaching up to press the flat of his hand against his aching forehead. "Dude, please don't start with the self-flagellation now. It's too early and I'm too hung over to tell you all the reasons why it's not your burden to carry."

"I fucked you and I shouldn't have. You were drunk, and I...wasn't thinking all that clearly myself. It never should have happened, and the fact that it did happen, well, that's on me. That's _all_ on me."

Meaning what, exactly? That he hadn't wanted it? Hadn't wanted Stiles? 

"Bullshit. You knew exactly what you were doing last night, despite drinking that half a bottle of wolfsbane whiskey, and newsflash, Sourwolf, but I knew it, too. I wanted you, Derek. I wasn't lying about that."

Of course, he hadn't been exactly honest when he said that he was ready for it. He hadn't been. He hadn't even _known_ he hadn't been. Being with Derek, being fucked by Derek, had completely destroyed him last night, and while he couldn't complain about how good it felt, he also couldn't deny it scared the shit out of him.

He and Derek were friends now. They hadn't always been, but they were now, and sex...sex had a way of destroying friendships. Especially if both parties didn't want it to continue past the night, or the weekend, as it were.

"Look," Stiles said, running a hand across his face, the back of his neck," we both wanted things to happen last night. We spent the entire wedding procession and reception fighting it, teasing at it. Hell, we even slow danced together and nearly combusted right there in the middle of the floor, in front of all those people, all our friends. I wasn't drunk then, Derek, and you weren't confused then, either."

Derek nodded but didn't meet his eyes, instead choosing to bend and pick up his dress shirt and tie off the floor. "I didn't say we didn't want it. I just said it was a mistake for it to happen. For me to let it happen."

"Maybe it was," Stiles admitted, "but it did happen, and I'm not sorry that it happened. It was good, dude. It was really good." 

_Too good_ , actually, because now Stiles would never forget the way Derek's hands felt against his skin, the way his mouth, tongue, and teeth felt on his neck, his fingers on his cock. Stiles had come so hard he'd blacked out for a bit, and that had never happened to him before. He wasn't even sure that could happen to him until last night. Until Derek. 

_Fuck_. He was so screwing this up, but he wasn't the only one. Derek was moving like a man possessed this morning, dressing as if he couldn't stand being naked in front of Stiles anymore. Or maybe he was just in that much of a hurry to get away from him. The thought of that being the case hurt. It hurt a lot more than Stiles wanted for it to. 

He watched as Derek pushed his arms through the sleeves of his dress shirt and quickly did up the buttons before slinging the tie around his neck. "Derek, man, would you stop and look at me for a minute?" When the other man made no move to comply, gave no indication he was even listening to him, Stiles pushed his way out of bed and walked to stand in front of him. "Hey. Derek. Come on, man." He reached for the hands doing their best to knot the tie and yanked them down, hard. 

"Dammit, would you just fucking look at me and tell me what the hell is wrong with you? I feel like I woke up in the middle of a book I didn't go to sleep reading the night before."

Derek froze at that, his head lifting from where he'd been trying to slip the tie's knot further up his chest. "You're the one who woke up freaked, Stiles. I'm just trying to get out of your hair before this morning gets worse."

Yeah, okay, he'd give him that. Stiles had been freaked when he woke up. Hell, he was still freaked if he were being honest about it, but that didn't mean he regretted it, or that he didn't want for it to happen again.

Because he did. He wanted it. All of it. He just wasn't sure if he had what it took to keep it. To keep Derek. 

"I'm scared," he confessed softly. "I've never done this before, man. I mean, yeah, I've had sex with people before, but...it never meant something. It never _mattered_."

Derek's eyes softened at that. "So it wasn't just sex to you then. You felt something. For me. You felt something for me. For us."

He nodded, and watched as Derek all but fell into the empty hotel chair behind him, one hand tugging free of Stiles's grip so he could run it through his hair. "Shit, Stiles, I thought...you said you wanted this...last night you said you wanted me, but I... I still expected for you to tell me it was just sex. That you'd got your fill of me and you didn't want to take things any further."

He wasn't sure they should, but at the same time, he couldn't deny that he wanted to try. "I want this, Derek. I don't know how good I'll be at it, but...I want it. I want you. I want _us_." 

"I want us, too," Derek said, lowering his hand with a wry grin. "I've wanted it for so long now, I'm finding it difficult to believe that you actually want it to."

Stiles knew the feeling. 

Tugging on the hand he still held in his grip, he gently coaxed Derek up onto his feet, relishing in the way the other man's gaze darkened when Stiles pressed up close against him. "You can tell when I lie, right? You can hear the difference in my heartbeat?"

"Yeah, but you're face gives you away, too. You're a horrible liar."

What? "No, I'm not. I'm a great liar. I'm the _best_ liar, Derek."

"No," Derek said, smiling, "you're really not."

Stiles wanted to argue that, but he wasn't sure he could prove his point, or that it would serve his purpose right now. "Okay, so forgetting that little defamation for the moment, by your own admission, you know when I lie to you. So you also know that I when I say this wasn't just sex, that it meant something to me, that it matters, that _you_ matter, you know I'm not lying to you. You know that I mean it."

Derek studied his face, searched his gaze, and nodded, once. "I can tell you mean it. I can tell you're not lying."

"Damn straight you can tell that, because I'm not. I want this, man. I want this so much I'm terrified I'll screwed it all up. You and me, on paper, we're a horrible idea, dude. No one would ever believe we could work as an actual couple, but we do, Derek. We work."

Derek nodded again, his hands lifting to wrap around Stiles's waist. "I know we work, Stiles. I just wasn't sure _you_ knew we worked." He frowned, then drew a deep breath before saying, "You're not the only one afraid here, though. I'm afraid, too. I trust you, Stiles, and I don't trust anyone. I don't trust anyone in the pack as much as I trust you, and that scares me because people I trust, people I love, they leave, they get hurt."

"Or they betray you," Stiles said, understanding despite the shot of pain it sent to his heart. "You're afraid I'm going to hurt you. That I'll just up and decide this isn't what I want. But I won't, Derek. You? You are what I want. You're what I've always wanted, even when I didn't know that I actually wanted it. Wanted you."

Derek furrowed his brows. "That...makes no sense."

Sure it did. He'd given up his love for Lydia because of his crush on Derek and even if he hadn't exactly realized it at the time, it still happened. It was still important. It still _mattered_.

"Do you love me, Derek? Are you in love with me?"

Hazel eyes went wide, disbelief warring with indecision, doubt. "Uh, don't you think it's a little too soon for that talk, Stiles?"

Not if it was true. "Answer the question. Are you in love with me?"

Derek didn't say the words aloud, but his single nod was all the answer Stiles needed. For now, at least. "Good. That's good. Because I love you, too, Derek, and as long as we love each other, we can make this work between us. Doesn't matter how scared we are of losing it, only how hard we'll work to keep it."

"Now that," Derek said, lips spreading into a broad, blissful grin, "that actually made sense."

Of course it did. Stiles was the one who said it.

"You know what else makes sense? That promise you made last night." When Derek looked at him in confusion, Stiles smirked. "You said if I still wanted this in the morning, you'd let me fuck you. Well, I still want it, Sourwolf. So that means, it's time for you to pay up, and you can start," he said, pausing, stepping back to stare him up and down, "by taking off your clothes. Again."

Without a word, Derek lifted his hands to the tie at his shirt, yanked down the knot, and pulled the material up over his head. Then his fingers went to work on the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning it one at a time until it slipped from his shoulders and he could slide his arms out of the sleeves.

It was only as his hands reached for the snap of his pants that Stiles changed his mind and sprang into action. "Wait," he said, hands shooting out from his side, "let me do that."

Derek grinned and held his arms out to his side. "Be my guest," he said. "But you should probably hurry up about it. We're supposed to meet some of the pack for breakfast this morning, and before that, we're going to need to shower."

"Or we could just skip breakfast and stay in bed instead." Stiles brushed his fingers along the front of Derek's pants and couldn't help but smirk as Derek's breath stalled in his throat when his fingers slid against his erection. "What do you say, Sourwolf? Want to skip breakfast and let me gorge myself on you instead?"

Derek rolled his eyes, reaching out to grip his biceps. "You're a menace, you know that?"

Maybe, but he also didn't care. "A promise is a promise is a promise, Derek. You promised I could fuck you this morning."

"And you can," he whispered, leaning in to mouth at Stiles's neck, one hand wandering down to stroke his cock. "You can fuck me, but first, I think I should fuck you again. Just to show you how it's supposed to go."

Okay, yeah, that was cheating. Derek was cheating. Derek was a cheater. 

"You...are the worst. The _worst_ , Derek."

Stiles could feel Derek's lips spread into a smile against his skin, even as he forced him to walk backward toward the bed. "Yeah, maybe, but then, so are you."

Yeah, he really, really was. And he really didn't care if Derek wanted to fuck him first, because that only meant they got to do this again after that.

Somehow, Stiles didn't see that as a bad thing. Not even a little bit.

***FIN***


End file.
